I walked into the kitchen. I saw my mom and dad standing over the sink. They were talking. I couldn't tell what they were saying, but they definetly looked worried or mad. Like I said, I can't tell.
"Morning." I said and walked towards the cupboard to get myself a bowl of cereal, but my mom beat me to it.
"No Hazel, let me get it for you." she said without even glancing at me. I went and sat down at the table with a huff. I can still do things by myself. Just because I'm dying doesn't mean I'm incapable of every single thing I do.
"Here." She sat the cereal down in front of me. A pile of cheerios with milk that could barely soak two of them. I acted as if I were grateful and ate them.
"You feel like you could go to support group?" My dad asked. He only glanced back at me and then focused on the dishes again.
Me: "Is Isaac going?"
Mom: "Probably."
Me: "Then sure."
Soon we were off to the church. The meetings still took place in the literal heart of Jesus, and Patrick was still leading it too. But this time I didn't take the stairs, I took the elevator... The last days elevator.
We still sat in a circle. Isaac and I still communicated through sighs. My exhales were weaker than before, but we still did it. But this time he didn't sit acrossed the circle, he sat next to me. Nothing really was different except for Isaac sitting next to me and that there was no sexy boy staring at me
YOU ARE READING
Letters From Augustus
Teen FictionAugustus wrote Hazel a letter everyday from the day they met to the day of his death.
